Happy New Year
by owlcroft
Summary: There's a first time for everything.


HAPPY NEW YEAR

by  
Owlcroft

"What do ya mean, take the tree down? After all that work getting it in here and decorated and all?" McCormick glared at the judge, saw that approach wasn't working and switched to a pleading look. "Can't we leave it up for just another day or two? Christmas was the day before yesterday!"

Hardcastle shook his head firmly. "Nope, it's gotta come down. Go on and get the boxes from the attic and spread some newspapers around to catch the needles that fall off." He went back to his scribbling, but looked up after a moment of conspicuous non-activity. Mark stood there, staring at him, arms crossed, waiting.

"One more day," he said. "I swear I'll take it down tomorrow, okay?"

The judge leaned back, sighing. He ran a hand over his forehead and bit back the first retort that occurred to him. "Look," he finally said, "it's been tough for both of us, having Sarah move out. And I know it's a little early to be taking the tree down. But can't you just once do something without bugging me about it? Doncha think there's a reason I need the tree moved outta here, huh?"

McCormick, responding to the unexpectedly mild tone instead of the barked command he'd anticipated, replied equally mildly. "You wanna share that reason with me, Judge?"

"I'm having some people over for New Year's Eve, okay? There's gonna be around forty of 'em and we need the room in here." Hardcastle straightened up in his chair and rested his arms on the desk. "I figured get the tree outta here today, then we can start cleaning up tomorrow and still have plenty of time to get in the food and put up the New Year's stuff without running around like chickens with our heads cut off. Without Sarah here to plan the thing, and do the food, it'll be extra work for both of us, and I wanted lotsa time to get it all done."

Mark sank into the wing chair at the end of the judge's desk. "Oh. But . . ." he calculated rapidly, "if I take the tree down tomorrow _and _get this room cleaned up, that still leaves us four days to get everything else done. That's enough time for everything, Judge, honest. One more day for the tree, come on." He raised his brows hopefully.

"Yeah, all right, fine. But," Hardcastle shook an admonitory finger, "everything's gotta be done by the afternoon of New Year's Eve. I don't want you running around still working on stuff when people start getting here. Got it?"

McCormick lowered his head. "Yeah, I got it," he muttered. "Everything'll be all done and I'll be hiding out in the gatehouse by the time the _company _starts arriving."

The judge goggled at him briefly. "What? Gatehouse? Not on your Nelly! You're gonna be over here with me, handing out the little sandwiches and pouring champagne. Oh, no," he snorted, "you don't get to just go take it easy and enjoy yourself! Parties are a lot of work and we're gonna be busy all night with this one." He smiled at the puzzled expression on the younger man's face. "You throw a party, you hafta attend it, ya know. It's one of the rules."

"You mean, I'm invited," Mark replied slowly.

Hardcastle eyed him tolerantly. "Not _invited_, you _live _here, for crying out loud. It's your party, too. You'll be helping me throw this wingding." He waved a hand at the paper in front of him. "Look at this list. As of this morning, I've heard back from thirty-four people saying they'll be here. You think I'm gonna deal with this by myself?" He grinned at Mark's expression of dawning understanding. "Besides, with some of the guys that are coming over, we'll probably still be up at six in the morning, ready for some hoops, and I want you on my team. We'll cream 'em." He chuckled delightedly.

"Oh, well, then, we better get started." McCormick rose, wearing an enormous grin. "The tree really oughta come down today, after all. I can get started on sweeping the driveway after that, and tomorrow we can plan out all the food and stuff. You said you had decorations? Are they up in the attic, too? We better make a list of the booze we'll need and maybe put in an order for some cases of champagne, right? And we'll need some of those noisemakers and funny hats and streamers and all." He started pacing in front of the desk. "I'll need to make out a schedule – you know, clean the pool and vacuum last thing; clean up the kitchen that morning. Pick up the food the day before. That kinda stuff. And music! You planning on having records going, or the radio? Or have the TV on with that Dick Clark show? Hey, where's everybody gonna park? I better clean up the gatehouse, too. People always end up wandering over there. I should get the cooler down from the attic, and we gotta get lots of extra ice. Do you have any kind of list, yet? Put ice on it."

The judge rested his chin on a palm and listened, bemused.

"And hey! Put coffee down, too. We oughta have a lot of that around. Maybe even have a thermos out by the pool. You know," he paused and looked straight at the judge, "this is gonna be the best party ever!" He grinned again and headed upstairs for the tree decoration boxes.

_finis_


End file.
